A Life After Vengence
by suziequzie
Summary: What if Sweeney never found out the old beggar woman he murdered was his beloved Lucy? Would Ms. Lovett get her happy ending?
1. Chapter 1

-1Authors Note: Characters do not belong to me. This is just the result of listening to the soundtrack repeatedly. If you enjoy it yay! If not, I'm sorry.

Alone, he sat. In that chair where so many before him sat. Sadly, those before him had met their ends in that very chair, all by his hand. He did it all for her. Oh what he'd give for just one moment with her again. To just see her golden hair, and that smile. That smile that would ease him into believing there was no evil in the world. He ran his hand over the picture, over her face. Just to touch her again. He frowned as he tried to remove blood from it. Her eyes watched him, he was sure of it. He closed the double frame out of shame, and got out of the chair. He walked to the cracked mirror, and gently sat the picture down. He examined himself, his pale cheeks seemed to almost glow eerily, his hollowed eyes seemed to expose how empty his soul was, and his dark hair, highlighted by streak of white, he had changed. No doubt. If she saw him now, she'd run in disgust. He punch the mirror again, more cracks creeped across the surface of the glass. Benjamin Barker had become Sweeney Todd, and in turn, Sweeney became a broken man.

He stalked across the floor, his boots making a soft tapping noise against the wood, to the massive window. He peered out at a gloomy London, this really was the worst place. So many haunted memories of her. His hand instinctively went to his razor. He gazed the streets, looking for an sign of a customer. Business was slow today, as Ms. Lovett would say, since the judge disappeared. Just the thought of the Judge Turpin's face as he slit his throat brought a shadow of a smile across his face.

As quick as it had appeared it was gone, as he turned towards the door. Footsteps, it was about time. He had been waiting all afternoon. Ms. Lovett knocked on the door, before letting herself in.

"Here you are luv," she murmured as she laid the small tray of pies next to the picture. He rushed over, and grabbed the picture, slipping into the top drawer unnoticed. "Have a little judge," she told him. "Fresh out of the oven. Go on." she demanded putting one of the pies in his hand. He looked at it questionably, before cautiously placing the treat in his mouth. All at once, his hard work seem to pay off. The judge who had thrown him in jail under false charges, the judge who took his Lucy, sending her to her death, the judge who kidnapped his daughter, was finally gone. Well he would be once these pies were gone.

"Ms. Lovett, you've outdone yourself," his scratchy voice complimented. The pie was everything he had hoped for, well except for the part where he was sharing it with Lucy. Ms. Lovett's eyes seemed to light up at the compliment, as she gave him that dark smile. "Has the boy turned up?" He mentioned, changing the subject. He didn't like it when she got that look. He didn't care for her, he never could. Not like his Lucy.

"Nothing," she said, with a sigh. She walked past him and sat in the chair. "Oh I do hope he's alright," she added softly, "I'd hate to think of any harm coming to him." Sweeney just looked at her, as he finished the first pie and picked up two more. He walked over, placing one in her hand and took his place by the window.

"I hope he's dead," he muttered between bites, "I only regret not being the one to finish him off," he added staring at the window. It was amazing how people could just casually walk to and from, never seeing the evil of the world. "They all deserve to die."

"Mr. T! How could you say such things?" Ms. Lovett asked, taking a nibble from the pie, "Toby was a good help," she defended. "He did everything that was asked of him."

"You know as well as I, what he'll do if he's still alive," Sweeney replied, turning from the window. The people made him sick, and he wanted to be able to finish the pies. "He will tell someone, and what will that do for your business," he pointed out. She looked away, she knew he was right. But some reason she had developed a strong attachment to the boy. He wished he'd of finished the boy off with Pirelli.

"Maybe not," she hoped. He couldn't take her foolishness anymore, he appeared in front of her, pinning her to the chair by her neck.

"Enough," he snarled, secretly enjoying the fear in her eyes. "You said yourself he wanted to go to the authorities. What makes you think he would go turn us both in if given the chance," he reminded her, pulling out his razor. "It is best for us all, if he's good and dead." He finished with placing the tip of the razor against her delicate neck. After a few moments of a panicked look from her, he released her, returning to the window.

She placed her hand over her neck, and calmed her breathing. She wanted to believe he'd never actually go through with it. Somehow a part of her still feared he may one day. "Oh, you're not waiting for," she asked, making a slicing motion over her neck. Ironic how a moment ago it could have been her neck. "Mr. Todd, haven't you had enough for a while. Remember luv, we need to keep our nose clean, now that the judge has disappeared." She said soothingly, walking over and putting her hands on his back. "Let us go get ready for the dinner rush," she suggested, resting her face against his back.

He pulled away from her, "Leave me," he said harshly.

She moved away, and made her way to the door. She hesitated, before walking out and slamming the door behind her. She huffed as she gathered her skirt and walked down the stairs to her shop. She walked through the shop, and into the living area. Ms. Lovett looked around a moment, the sadness overwhelming, she honestly hoping the poor boy was safe. She went to where she kept the gin and pulled out a bottle from the back. Shaking it, she discovered only a swag left. She held the bottle up to the light, letting the amber light wash over her face before drinking the last bit. Coughing a bit she dropped the bottle on the sofa. She continued to the bake house to pull Beadle and Lucy out for dinner. She looked around the bake house at all the pies, there were enough for tonight, maybe the lunch rush tomorrow.

She balanced as many trays as she could, before making her way slowly up the stairs, avoiding tripping over her skirt. Setting the pies on the counter in the store, a small puff of dust floated up, inside would have to wait for later, now she need to get the outside ready. Leaning over one of the tables, she scrubbed as hard as she could. She stood up and wiped her brow, looking up at Sweeney's barber shop instinctively. Her was partly surprised to see him standing at the window, for a second it almost looked like he was watching her. Shaking the thoughts out of her head, she went to fetch the bird food. The birds sang more with filled bellies, and their singing resulted in more full bellies leaving her shop.

She looked back at the window, slightly relieved he had vanished. She loved the man. She always had. But there were just times when the look in his eye would make her nervous. Like he was reading her mind, looking into her soul. She could never let him find out the old beggar woman was his beloved Lucy. She'd be thankful once the night was over and Lucy would be gone.

Shame, however, how the poor woman's life turned out. She pitied the poor thing. But there was no point in dwelling on the past. She would be twice the wife to him. She only hoped a small part of him, just a small sliver of him, would feel something for her. But she was okay if it never happened. She would be happy to be "Mrs. Sweeney Todd"

Snapping out of daydream, she finished washing tables, and double check everything. "Time for dinner," she said aloud, go to flip the sign on the door to open. She unlocked the door and already had customers.

"'Ello dearie," she greeted them cheerfully, making her round with the pitcher of ale. "How are you doing this evening?" "Is there anything else?" she'd occasionally ask.

"Excuse ma'am," an old man called out to her.

"More ale luv?" she asked, about to fill his mug.

"Oh no ma'am," the gentleman replied, with a toothy grin, "I was just wonderin' where that boy was," he stated looking around, "Is he makin' the pies? He always so cheery!"

Ms. Lovett dabbed her eyes, "The poor dear has vanished," she responded. "Oh I do hope he's alright." She added.

The man lowered his eyes, "I'm sorry to hear that ma'am. We will pray for a safe return," he added, grabbing her hand and patting. She smiled her thanks, and excused herself to attend to the rest of the guests.

The rest of the night passed by quickly, she sold out of pies, and had to turn away people. Finally, she was alone. She looked at the mess, and looked to the street, hoping Toby would return. Laughing at her own foolishness, she got to work on cleaning up. When she was done with clean up, she headed up the stairs to check in on Mr. Todd. "Mr. T," she called, before opening the door.

He awoke to the bell ringing, he turned his head towards the door, razor open in his hand. He saw it was only her, and eased back, dropping the razor. "What is it?" he asked harshly, closing his eyes again. She never came up after dinner, she usually stay below with, oh that's it. The boy.

"Oh nothing," she replied, stepping forward. "I just figured you'd be hungry, is all." She said defensively. "How about you come have a pie with me luv?" she added, with another step forward.

"No," he replied. He could hear her soft footsteps coming closer. He knew she was stubborn, he knew she was in love, and he hated to admit, he used the last part to his advantage. But now, he knew she was lonely. Not that he cared, he told himself, he just felt bad for her. He knew how the loneliness could haunt a person. He had haunted him for fifteen years, and it continued to do so. He sighed heavily, and put the picture frame out of view. He didn't care for her, he reminded himself again.

"Filled up on judge?" she suggested, making an excuse for him as she always did. She sighed softly, "If you're sure then," she added, hoping he'd change his mind. She waited a moment, before turning and walked to the door. "You know, luv, it's not right. Up here alone in the dark, I mean. She's dead, and moping around here isn't going to bring her back. Lucy Barker is dead. So is her husband," she reminded, before letting herself out, slamming the door.

Sweeney sat in the chair, flicking the razor, open, close, open, and so on. He raspy throat released a growl as he threw the razor from him. How dare she! She had no right to talk of Lucy, his Lucy. He groaned as he held his head in his hands. He needed something, he needed someone to walk in, more than anything he need her. He got up swiftly and appeared at the window, watching. He beat the glass with his fist, surprised the glass didn't give in to him, before his heavy footsteps echoed across the floor as he made his way to the door, stopping only for a second to snatch the razor from the floor. "You shall drip rubies," he crooned, before slamming the door.

Nellie sat at the table, waiting. She knew he'd come down. If anything, he'd come to kill her. At least it would end the pain, the suffering. She could hear his footsteps from above, and raise her eyes to the ceiling. Any minute now, he'd at least come to threaten her. She had crossed the line, but she knew what she had said was the truth. Lucy was dead, Benjamin Barker was dead as well. All that remained were fragments of a memory. She heard the door open, and glanced over. Just as she expected, he stood there, the silver shining in the dim light. She simply closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

-1Ms. Lovett accepted her fate, she knew it was time. She felt the coolness against her throat as he made his usual threat. She knew she'd be lucky if this was just another threat. She opened her eyes slowly, fighting back the fear, she looked up in his eyes. Usually his eyes were empty, dark, but as he held the razor to her neck, they were filled with emotion. Hate, anger, sadness, and loneliness seemed to all be fighting for control. Ignoring the fact that she was mere seconds away from her own ending, her eyes soften. "Mr. T, sit, have some gin," she suggested., talking softly and slowly. She felt the razor press harder against her skin, as she calmly stared into her killer's eyes. "Come now, Mr. T, let's not make a hasty decision," she said softly, "At least not until we find another baker. I can't very well dispose of my own body, now can I luv?" she pointed out, slowly reaching her hand up, and placing in on the arm that held her fate. She sighed in relief when the armed dropped down, but was quickly replaced by his bare hand wrapping around her neck.

"Never speak of her again," he growl, bringing his face close to hers. He removed his hand from her neck, noticing the small amount of blood. He looked back at her neck, noticing a small cut. He pressed his finger against it, ignore her cringing, letting the blood flow over his finger, before he brought it to his mouth. "Let that be a warning," he finally said, before turning to leave. He slammed the little shop door, causing a terrible breeze to come rushing through.

Nellie shuddered as she brought a hand up to her throat to verify that it was indeed bleeding. She sighed as she looked at her blood, and got up to go to the washroom. She cleaned as best she could, "Well that wus a close one," she said aloud to her reflection. She frowned at herself before turning to the room. She moved the bottle off the sofa, shaking it to confirm it was empty, before settling down. She fell into a restless slumber, her mind pacing back in forth refusing to rest.

When Sweeney got back to his shop he threw the razor in the chair and stood at the window. He dark eyes danced across the streets, she had no right. She deserved far worse than he gave her, she had no right. His mind repeated over and over. How dare she mention Lucy in such a way. He let a raspy growl escape from his chest, and he marched over to the chair, his boots making a solid thud across the wood. He grabbed the razor from the chair and opened it. He turned it over, looking at his hazy reflection. It took him a moment to notice the hint of red to it. A twisted smile made it's way across his face as he went to cleaning the blade. At least he didn't lie to his friend, he thought as he wiped the last trace of rubies away. He held it up to the dim light before laying it on the on top on the closed picture frame. He turned his head to the window to await sunrise, slowly drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

He awoke the next morning, irritable with the bright streak of light across his face. He held up his arm, shielding his face before giving in and yawning. He got up, and walked across to the window, his boots making their usual thud. He took a look around the already busy streets, looking for anyone who may be looking for a shave. He was already in a foul mood, sunny days usually did it to him. In the old days they would have put a smile on his Lucy's face that would put the sun to shame. Nowadays, there was no smile, only a mocking sun to remind him of what was gone. He dropped his head down, noticing movement down below. Ms. Lovett was already getting tables ready for lunch. Odd, he thought, she usually came up first thing to bring him food. He glanced over at the table, noticing the lack of a tray. He shrugged it off and went to cleaning his razors, preparing for the day. She must have finally given up. He couldn't deny his relief of her absence from him, at least now he could be alone with his thoughts.

He heard the door ring and looked over, expected her, instead a shaggy old man stood behind him. He gave the man a fake smile before taking his coat, "Come for a shave?" he inquired, leading the man to the chair. He carefully wrapped the cloth around the man and lathered him up. He went over to grab the razor from last night, and decided against it, instead opting for one out of his case. He couldn't explain it, but it felt wrong to use the same razor that drew her blood on this common street man. He hummed a merry tune as he shaved half the man's face before digging the razor into his throat. He never got tired of the excitement that would arise in him as the body jerked before finally succumbing to death's embrace. He mindlessly wiped the blade on a clean spot left on the old cloth before he tapped the switch with his foot, watching the body slid to the bake house below. After tossing the man's coat down, he took a seat and held his hand up, entranced by the blood covering it and his sleeve. He got up and went to change his shirt, tossing the bloodstain one into the chest. Ms. Lovett would clean them, just like she always cleaned up the bodies. She was right, if he had actually killed her, who would take care of the body.

Nellie Lovett kept herself busy around the shop, she had noticed the gentleman making his way up to the barbers, and she knew it would be time to start baking soon. She sighed at plopped her elbows on the counter and rested her cheek against her hand. She deserved a small break, she had been busy all morning to keep herself from going up there. She was honestly frighten this time, and worried if she wondered up to the room where men became ingredients in her delicious meat pies, that she would join them. Anyways, he was never hungry, or so he repeatedly told her. She gazed up at the ceiling, he was taking longer than usual. The man didn't look too missed. She finally heard the squeak of the trapdoor, and the soft thud in the bake house, and dusted her skirt as she walked to the door, locking it. Without Toby around, there would be no one to watch the shop. She made quick work of pulling the flesh off the bones and tossing it in the grinder. She looked at the stack of bones that had grown over the weeks, and considered going into jewelry making for a while. Grinding the meat was probably the easiest part, and she took her time with it, making sure to grind it twice.

He started pacing back and forth, glancing out the window, and the looking at the door. Where was she, where was his food. Why hadn't she come up yet today? He was hungry, he wanted his food. Back and forth, back and forth, he continued, his footsteps grew heavier. First the bloody sun, and now she hadn't brought his food. He finally grew impatient and left his little shop, and going down the stairs. He went to enter her pie shop, but the door was locked. Mumbling to himself he went to the front door, finding it locked as well. Where was that woman at? He sighed heavily as he made his way back upstairs. She must be in the back house, and she'll bring his food after that. He sat in the chair and place his hands over his face to block out the smirk of the sun.

She finished with the pies, and left them in the oven. It wasn't quite three dozen, but it'd be enough for today. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she shut the door and locked it and climbed the stairs to her shop. Her eyes automatically looked up at the ceiling, noticing the lack of footsteps, as she unlocked the shop doors. It was odd that he wasn't up there pacing about. Sighing, she pulled out bread and some soup left over from the night before and sat the on the tray. She stood there for a moment, before taking the tray and slowly making her way up to his shop. Balancing the tray on one had, she softly knocked on the door, surprised when she heard the gruff voice from inside telling her to come in. Hesitantly, she opened the door to find him in the chair, his head in his hands. "Are you ok luv?" she asked, going to set the tray down.

"You're late," his voice replied from behind her, his breath dancing across the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine. She tensed up, and looked at the mirror, as his arm reached around her to grab a piece of bread. She relaxed when he settled back in the chair.

"I'm sorry, it was a busy morning," she lied, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of knowing despite being in love, she feared him slightly. She turned to look at him, her heart melting at the sight of the broken man, "Mr. T? Wuts wrong luv?" she spoke softly, as though she were trying to avoid frightening him. She walked over and put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close to her body, blocking out the sun. A tingle ran down her spine as he wrapped one arm around her, completely blocking the sun from reaching him. "Mr. T!" she said softly, shocked by his actions.

The arm quickly released her as soft, caring eyes met dark, empty ones. "Leave me," he replied harshly, jerking away from her. He looked away, and listened as her light footsteps hurried across the floor, and the door shut softly. She didn't even try to argue with him. He sighed heavily, her presence shouldn't have given him comfort. It wasn't right, she wasn't Lucy. Lucy was the sun, while Nellie was the tree that provided him with shadows to hide in. No, he couldn't just hide from his Lucy. He let out a tortured groan as his head returned to his hands. Why did he have to go and let her comfort him? He got up to lock the shop door, turning the open sign over. That look, that look she always gives him when he gave her any sort attention. That look that when Lucy would give it, would make him feel alive. But when Nellie gave it, it made him almost feel the same. Almost. He distracted himself with his razors, polishing them, caressing them, he could never let that feeling be complete, not with her.

A/N; Don't worry, there is more to come. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews, without them, I doubt I would have ever written this chapter. So keep reviewing! Also, I'm not so sure about this chapter, but it's what came out so I just hoe someone enjoys it.


	3. Chapter 3

-1Authors Note: Alright my dearies, Sorry it's taken so long for an update. I've been really busy with work, I just recently got transferred to a bigger store. Also I've bought the Sweeney Todd novel in hopes of bringing you a better story, I'll start reading it as soon as I get a moment to breath! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!

Back and forth, he was forever pacing, back and forth. Down below chocolate eyes gazed at the ceiling, back and forth, following the soft thud. "There 'e goes again," Mrs. Lovett said to no one in particular, usually it would had been addressed to Tobias. Sighing heavily, she poured more gin from her newly acquired bottle. She adjusted herself so that she was more comfortable in the sofa, her eyes returning to the ceiling to follow the pacing. She had intended for the gin to lull her to sleep, but even as she sipped, her mind wouldn't stop pacing along with the barber. She was beginning to question her sanity, had he really placed in arm around her? No, of course not. Not her Mr. T. Never, she wasn't his blonde goddess of a nit wife, Nellie reminded herself bitterly. Her eyes soften as she remembered what had happen to poor Lucy, no she couldn't blame the woman for her pain. It wasn't Lucy's fault that the man above was so absorbed in the past. Sighing, she closed her eyes and attempted to rest. She fell asleep dreaming of seaside weddings.

Evidence of his never-ending pacing was beginning to show in the wear patterns that traced the familiar path he followed night after night. He didn't take notice, his mind was far from that place.

Often his mind wandered to a different place, a different time. Before he had been thrown into a dark cell, when Benjamin Barker was still alive and he had his beautiful wife. Tonight, however, his mind had trouble finding that place. He couldn't find Lucy waiting for him with her opened arms, welcoming him into happiness. Something was distracting him, a smell, that seem to dance in and out of his nostrils making him forget what he was looking for. Following the scent, he found her. She stood in the gloom, her chocolate eyes and a warm smile, holding a pie. He felt drawn to her, her auburn hair was familiar, and despite that smile, he could tell she was in pain. He walked towards her, he couldn't remember what he was looking for, it didn't matter anymore. Her smile widen as he got closer and closer, "Mr. T," the vision greeted him, putting her free hand to his face. Despite himself, he leaned into the warmness, the pain melting away from her eyes. "Mr. T! You came," she told him happily, as she deposited the pie into his hands. He actually smiled as he watched her dance around the bake room, he never notice how gracefully she moved. He walked up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. He could feel her smiling, her happiness lit up the room and made everything warm. She turned to look at him, but it was no longer the same baker. In her place stood the old beggar woman, blood flowing freely from a fatal wound on her neck. The beggar looked up at him, and he couldn't help but be pulled into the waves of sadness coming from her. Feeling like he was beginning to drown, his lungs yelled for air, and his hands went to his face.

Sweeney woke up, gasping for air. Gripping the armrest of the old chair, he tried to steady his shaking hands. He didn't remember even sitting down and falling asleep. His lungs continued to fight for oxygen, as he listened to the cracking of the wood in his hands. Releasing his grip, he jumped up and started pacing. Never before had the vision of the baker appeared in his dream, much less make him believe he could be happy. What was wrong with him? How could he betray Lucy in such ways? A growl rumbled in his chest as he grabbed one of his beloved razors and left his little parlor, softly slamming the door behind him. He was surprised how quietly he made it down the stairs, the usual creaking stairs had become silent. Half a twisted smile crept across his face as he reached the door to the shop. He was surprised to find the door unlocked as he quietly slipped in. Shutting the door behind him, he turned the lock and made his way into the living area. The room was not as dark as he thought it would be, and he was able to easily move around without little noise. Dim embers from the fireplace glowed eerily as though they wanted to see what he was doing. He spotted her form, passed out on the sofa with a bottle on gin dangling out her hand. Standing over her, flicking his razor open in one hand. He tried to ignore how peaceful she looked, how, while she was asleep, she couldn't give him the looks. He wanted nothing more than to remove her from his life right now. The razor moved slowly, inching closer to her pale neck. She was asleep, unaware, and unable to stop him with her logic of pie baking. All of that should have been enough to allow him to pull the razor across her throat and watch in glee as her life faded. It should be easy, just one flick of his wrist. He couldn't tell if it was just the fact that she cleaned up after him that made it difficult to end her life while she slept, or if it was because, in all honestly, she was the only person that was just there. The razor fell from his hand and landed on the floor with a soft clatter. He didn't care for her. She was just the baker. He would never care for her, he cared for Lucy. Watching the cause of his frustration sleep peacefully, he fought to calm his breathing so he wouldn't wake her. He didn't really want to find out what would happen if she woke up with him standing over her. Turning from her, he looked over at the dying embers. Mumbling to himself, he walked over to the fireplace and lifted the poker, imagining himself laughing while swinging it over her head a few times. The thoughts were enough to keep him satisfied as he poked at the fire, causing the embers to glow more brightly, spreading the warm hug through the room. The trip downstairs had proved to be a complete waste of time, she held her spell in place even while she slept. He took a breath before quietly slipping out of the room, and out the door. It would be like he was never there, if only life could be that simple. The stairs had apparently found their voice as they creaked on his way back up ad though they were passing secrets about his late night trip. He walked into his little barber shop and looked at the chair, then the dresser where he saw the open case of razors, with one empty space.

Author's Note: Ugh! I know it's short, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry I made you guys wait so long. Also, I'm not sure what made me start this little scene, and I'm sorry if I over did it a bit. Writer's block has hit me hard. Please forgive me!!

On another note, I've been listening to the new Panic at the Disco album, and there is a part of the song "She Had The World" that every time I hear it, I can't help but think of Sweeney.

"I don't love you, I'm just passing the time.

You could love me if I knew how to lie.

But who could love me, I am out of my mind."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Ok, so a lot has happened since I last wrote to you. I found happiness, I've worked two jobs, quit one, got promoted, moved into an apartment, holidays, and vacations. I am a horrible, horrible person for making whoever reads this wait so, so long. I only ask for forgiveness, seeing how I am only human and mistakes are part of my genetic makeup. I can't promise quick updates, I only have one afternoon of free time a week in which to try to write, but I will promise to at least make an effort to bring you the best possible update I can when I find the chance. Now on to the goodies.

Sweeney knew exactly where the razor had landed, right at the edge of the couch. The baker would find it in the morning, probably understand his intentions, and quietly return it. Yes, that's how it will happen. With some luck, it'll prove to her that he is perfectly capable of killing her. And knowing he could kill her should help to prove what exactly his feelings are. He settled in the chair and watched the stars twinkle, remembering the twinkle of his beloved's eyes. Sorrow welcomed itself back into Sweeney's heart. Honestly, it never left, just the thrill of digging a razor into warm flesh seemed to push the sorrow back some. He looked away from the window, and reached to pull a razor from the case. Flipping it over and over in his hand, he took little comfort in the coolness of the metal. A reflection from the moon light sparkled across his friend, and in disgust he tossed it aside. The soft thud as it hit the floor and slid an inch or two gave him no satisfaction. He needed something to take the light away, something to numb the dull ache that was determined to forever make him suffer. For a moment, his mind considered going back down to retrieve his lost property. It'd be a chance to feel the warmth of the fire, and be able to take comfort being near her.

"NO," Sweeney exclaimed, a little louder than necessary. It was sabotage, his mind was playing tricks on him. The only way for him to make a return visit would be to finished what he had intended. She would only offer comfort in the last moments of her life. That sweet moment when her eyes would widen in surprise as she gazed into the eyes of the object of her affection, the eyes of her killer. He savored the vision of Ms. Lovett's eyes fading as she took her last breath. He imagined, out of love for him, that she wouldn't try to fight back. Yes, that is how things should be, him dreaming of her demise, not seeking comfort in her presence. The scene played over and over in his mind, as his eyes became heavier. Her death lulled him to sleep without him ever realizing.

Downstairs, Ms. Lovett awoke with a fright. A scream, she could have sworn there was a scream. Silence surrounded her, as she sat up and listened for any sign she wasn't crazy. But of course she was crazy, she had to be. What sane person unconditionally loves a man who kills? What sane person houses the murderer, cleans up his messes, and disposes of the bodies? Nellie knew she was crazy, but it didn't change how she felt. Crazy or not, she continued to love him, clean up after him, and for what? Sure, she made a nice profit from her meat pies, she had paid her debts, and lived comfortably enough, but she was threatened often, and lonely. Her eyes gazed up before her mind had time to stop them. Despite everything he did to her or said, she held on to her hope that one day he'd come downstairs and tell her they were going to the sea. The corners of her mouth twitched up slightly. It was that dream of hers that got her through it all. The delusion that deep down, in that dark pit of a soul, he cared for her. She was sure of it. The dull pound of gin in her head was enough to distract her from her thoughts. It took a moment to realize she still had the bottle in her grasp, gently she let it drop to the floor with a soft thud, to cradle her aching head. The bottle rolled slightly, before coming to rest against the forgotten blade with an almost undetectable clink. The soft sound ringed into Ms. Lovett's ear, as she looked down.

"Wut's this," she asked aloud to herself, as the firelight danced over silver. Reaching down, she pushed the bottle under the sofa and picked the razor up off the floor. She admired how the firelight danced and sparkled over the polished silver. It only took a moment for her mind to start working on the why. Why was one of the barber's beloved razors down her? Her eyes flickered upwards for a moment, had he come to kill her in the middle of the night? Most certainly if he had, she'd be dead, right? It must have just gotten lost in the wash, she determined, setting the razor down next to her. Just gotten lost, and she must have dropped in the living room. She lifted herself off the couch and made her way to the bedroom. Collapsing onto the bed, she sighed softly, wishing the bed wasn't so empty. She never noticed the tears slowly crawling down her face as she drifted into sleep.

Morning came, as mornings do in London, bringing the gloom. Sweeney woke early as he usually did, thankfully not able to recall any dreams. There were no encounters with the baker in his nightmare to haunt him. Today, it'd be just him and his pain. No sun, no dream, nothing to add to his own circle of hell. That offered a little comfort, as he stood up and stretched, and slowly made his way to the window. Looking over the street below, he noted it was still early. It'd still be a while before a customer would come. However, it wouldn't be long before she'd appear with his breakfast. He resolved to tidy the shop a bit. It was practically clean, almost to a surgerical degree. Despite the state of her shop when he had orginally arrived back in London, the baker could actually keep a place clean. He picked up a razor off of the floor and inspected for any wear, but they were meant for all sorts of abused so no damage showed. Returning it to the case, he looked at empty space for a moment before settling into the chair to wait.

It wasn't long before her footsteps were heard traveling up the stairs. She tapped softly on the door before letting herself in. Without a word, she sat the tray next to him. Next to the pie meant for his breakfast, was his lost razor. He could feel her presence, along with something else. A small flicker of light sparked in his heart as he grabbed the razor. He wondered if she knew how close she had come. Slowly, he looked up to see if there was fear. He wanted her to know that he wanted to kill her. He needed her to know. Instead of fear, there was that warm smile. With that smile the light struggled to spread. The light was the reason she had to die.

In the dark depths of his mind, he saw her dying. And while her blood flowed, that smile would fade. Her screams fill his head, and he smiled. A true, twisted smile, for her.


End file.
